dead until dark

Charlaine Harris
 
Dead until Dark
 
 
 
Scanned by Ginevra September 29th2002
 
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It
was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has
received any payment for this "stripped book."
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
DEAD UNTIL DARK An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author
 
PRINTING HISTORY
 
Ace mass-market edition / May 2001
 
All rights reserved.
 
Copyright © 2001 by Charlaine Harris Schulz Cover art by Lisa Desimini
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. For information
address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New
York, New York 10014.

 
The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is http://www.penguinputnam.com
Check out the Ace Science Fiction & Fantasy newsletter and much more on the Internet at Club PPI!
ISBN: 0-441-00853-4
 
ACE® Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ACE and the "A" design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.
 
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10  987654321
 
 
 
 
 
My thanks and appreciation go to the people who thought this book
was a good idea—Dean James, Toni L. P. Kelner
and Gary and Susan Nowlin
 
 
 
Chapter 1
 
 

i'd beenWAITING for the vampire for years when he walked into the bar.
Ever since vampires came out of the coffin (as they laugh­ingly put it) four years ago, I'd hoped one
would come to Bon Temps. We had all the other minorities in our little town—why not the newest, the
legally recognized undead? But rural northern Louisiana wasn't too tempting to vam­pires, apparently; on
the other hand, New Orleans was a real center for them—the whole Anne Rice thing, right?
It's not that long a drive from Bon Temps to New Orleans, and everyone who came into the bar said
that if you threw a rock on a street comer you'd hit one. Though you better not.
But I was waiting for my own vampire.
You can tell I don't get out much. And it's not because I'm not pretty. I am. I'm blond and blue-eyed and
twenty-five, and my legs are strong and my bosom is substantial, and I have a waspy waistline. I look
good in the warm-weather waitress outfit Sam picked for us: black shorts, white T, white socks, black
Nikes.
But I have a disability. That's how I try to think of it.
The bar patrons just say I'm crazy.
Either way, the result is that I almost never have a date. So little treats count a lot with me.
And he sat at one of my tables—the vampire.
I knew immediately what he was. It amazed me when no one else turned around to stare. They couldn't
tell! But to me, his skin had a little glow, and I just knew.
I could have danced with joy, and in fact I did do a little step right there by the bar. Sam Merlotte, my
boss, looked up from the drink he was mixing and gave me a tiny smile. I grabbed my tray and pad and
went over to the vampire's table. I hoped that my lipstick was still even and my ponytail was still neat. I'm
kind of tense, and I could feel my smile yanking the corners of my mouth up.
He seemed lost in thought, and I had a chance to give him a good once-over before he looked up. He
was a little under six feet, I estimated. He had thick brown hair, combed straight back and brushing his
collar, and his long sideburns seemed curiously old-fashioned. He was pale, of course; hey, he was dead,
if you believed the old tales. The politically correct theory, the one the vamps themselves publicly
backed, had it that this guy was the victim of a virus that left him apparently dead for a couple of days
and thereafter al­lergic to sunlight, silver, and garlic. The details depended on which newspaper you read.
They were all full of vampire stuff these days.
Anyway, his lips were lovely, sharply sculpted, and he had arched dark brows. His nose swooped down
right out of that arch, like a prince's in a Byzantine mosaic. When he finally looked up, I saw his eyes
were even darker than his hair, and the whites were incredibly white.
"What can I get you?" I asked, happy almost beyond words.
He raised his eyebrows. "Do you